


Love/Hate

by aykayem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy's relationship with Draco is nothing short of a love/hate relationship, often leaning more one way than the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love/Hate

Pansy stood before Draco, hands planted firmly on wide hips, and her mouth set in a disapproving pout. More for his benefit than hers, as she knew what sort of effect pouting had on him. He was looking at her, leaning against the wall behind him with a sort of effortless class she'd always silently envied and tried to emulate without much success at all.

"Well, well, Draco," she started, only to find herself cut off as Draco crossed his arms over his chest, running his tongue over his teeth in thought. The words she wanted to say died on her tongue, and she hated him a little bit more for it.

"What would you say if I told you I had a girlfriend?" He asked, expression stony and unreadable, tone casual - as if he might have been discussing nothing more than the weather, or a Hufflepuff tumbling down the stairs.

"I wouldn't believe you."

She mentally kicked herself for letting so much emotion flood into her voice: anger, jealousy, hurt. She rather wanted to just hit him for even suggesting a thing.

Something unreadable crossed Draco's face, some flicker that she cared not to think about, but couldn't help. It stuck in the back of her mind as another thing that she noticed about him, joining the ranks of the way he tended to pout when he was silently unhappy and thought no one was looking, the way he straightened up a little bit more when he was pleased with something but didn't want to say anything. Superseding them all with the way it niggled at her: it meant something, she knew it did. Before she could even open her mouth to say anything, to bring it up, he was pushing himself away from the wall, untangling long limbs from where they rested against his chest moments before. Then his hand was at her waist, and he was giving her one of those warm, sweet smiles that she knew had to be faked.

"You'd be right not to. Who would have a girlfriend when I have you right here?" He drawled, voice too sickly to be genuine, and she wanted nothing more than to just shove him away and tell him where he could stick his endearments. But then his fingers were rucking her shirt out from where it was tucked into her skirt, splaying against the cool skin of her back, and his mouth was at her throat, nibbling just the way he knew she liked. She was melting into his arms, her hands falling limply against his shoulders, her head tipping back.

And she truly did hate him for that.


End file.
